If I Fall
by Scribomaniac
Summary: Prompt: Aelin's hurt and Rowan gets protective. Rowan didn't see the arrow aimed for his back, but Aelin did.


Rowan didn't see the arrow aimed at his back.

His attention was on the battle field in front of him. His winds sang with blood and carnage as he took down Wyvern after Wyvern; Witch after Witch. The Ironteeth legion was ferocious in their numbers, but inexperienced in working together, especially atop such massive beasts. Rowan was using that to his advantage by shifting the current in the air and causing Wyvern wings to falter, stumble on their glide and topple into another Wyvern beside them. The Wyverns and their riders were all dominant, alpha creatures and were unused to letting slights, no matter how small, go. So when one Wyvern slammed into another, teeth would flash and claws would gleam and ally would turn on ally. Rowan was so busy admiring his work, and continuing it, that he didn't pay attention to the sound of a bow strong being pulled back until it was too late. He didn't see the arrow coming.

But Aelin did.

Her warm, solid body crashed into his back with a muffled grunt. At first, Rowan didn't think anything of it. Her hands curled into the back of his shirt and the male Fae assumed she was just regaining her bearings before returning to the fight. But then she didn't step away. Aelin just stayed where she was, pressed against his back so tightly that Rowan could feel the steady thump, thump, thump of her heart resonating through his body. And then a sharp pain pierced his side, just to the left of his naval. He didn't understand it at first. It took him a moment to realize the pain was not emanating from him, but from his mate still standing behind him. Once he realized that, he also realized that Aelin wasn't _standing_ at all. She was _leaning_ on him for support. "Aedion!" He called out to the Ashryver General. "Take lead!" The blond man nodded without hesitation, giving Rowan leave to spin around and tend to his mate.

Aelin faltered slightly when he pulled away from her, but he quickly reached out and held her body steady. Looking down to her abdomen, Rowan saw the head of an arrow barely protruding from her tunic. Cursing under his breath, he moved one of his hands to cup his wife's cheek. "Aelin," her eyes were closed and her skin pale from blood loss. "Aelin!" He shook her firmly until her eyes fluttered open. He cursed, looked at the wound, and cursed again. He couldn't tend to the wound here, on a battle field, so without a second moment's thought, Rowan lifted Aelin into his arms, careful not to jostle or even brush against the arrow shaft sticking out her back. Using his wind to propel him, Rowan quickly fled from the battle's front lines and back towards their camp.

Logically, Rowan knew this wound wouldn't kill her. Her Fae heritage was too strong to be done in by an arrow, but the sight of the arrow tip protruding from her belly and the warm, sticky blood pouring from her chucked logic straight out of his mind. Infection was much more dangerous, however, and terribly likely considering how dirty wars were. Rowan had to get the arrow out of her and clean the wound as fast as he could before anything infectious could set in and damage her recovery.

Storming into one of their medical tents, Rowan's winds almost blew the entire thing over in his hurry, and was just barely able to divert them elsewhere at the last moment. Quickly, he placed Aelin on her side on a wooden table and took out one of his daggers. He wished, suddenly—-desperately—-that he had Aelin's affinity for fire, so he could sterilize the blade and then maybe even cauterize the wound. He didn't though, and so he had to do the sterilizing the slow, old fashioned way. "Rowan? What—-" Faliq Nesryn asked, walking into the tent with a limping Chaol hung over her shoulders. They both looked worse for wear. They were both dirty, covered in scrapes and the blue blood of their enemies, and looked as if they could fall over from the lightest of breezes, but Rowan took one look at them and saw a threat anyway.

Growling at them, the Fae male barred his canines at the two of them and snarled, "Get out!" He took a threatening step towards them and the wind around them shifted, rustling the flaps of the tent's entrance. He knew if Aelin were conscious she'd roll her eyes at him. Probably call in a territorial Fae bastard or the like, but he didn't care. His mate—-his _wife_ —-was hurt. His instincts were on high alert. He needed to keep her safe, and the best way to do that was to keep everyone away from her. Their situation was too precarious for even the slightest slip up. Rowan didn't have time to determine friend from foe. All his attention needed to be focused on healing Aelin. So Faliq and Westfall needed to haul ass out of the tent.

Nesryn, to her credit, didn't even blink. Her eyes barely flickered past his form, to Aelin's on the table behind him—-causing him to release another snarl—-before turning about face and guiding Chaol out of that particular medical tent to seek help elsewhere. Rowan didn't turn his back on them until his winds informed him they were a safe distance away. Quickly, and with efficiency one could only get through centuries of experience, Rowan sterilized his blade and began to cut away at the arrow shaft. It was a long, painful, grueling process, and unfortunately Aelin didn't remain unconscious for its entirety. Waking up halfway through the process, Rowan had to hold her down for several minutes as she began to thrash and attempt to escape the pain he was putting her through. It had to be done, though. There was no other way to get the arrow out.

Eventually—-Rowan wasn't sure how much time had past—-he was able to remove the entire arrow from Aelin without leaving behind a single splinter of wood. Aelin sighed in relief, though her eyes remained unfocused and dialted—-the black pupils all but drowning out her blue iris'—-as she gazed out blankly before her. Gently easing her onto her back, Rowan took a clean cloth and began cleaning around the exit wound on her abdomen, wiping away the blood and dirt, and watched her Fae heritage kick in. The skin around the wound slowly began to knit itself back together until only a small, pink line was left. Rowan's eyes watched the process steadfast until Aelin's moan pulled his gaze up to her face. "Rowan," she sighed, his name falling from her lips almost like a prayer.

"Aelin," he responded, just as quietly. Moving so he could rest his forehead against hers, he looked deeply into her eyes and felt all the tension seep out of his body. Aelin was alive. She was safe, and she was alive. Rowan's eyes fluttered shut, taking a moment to bask in the peace of the moment while a battle outside them raged. "Please don't do that again," he begged, taking in a deep breath. Her scent overwhelmed his senses, reminding him of her presence.

"Do what? Save your grumpy behind?" Aelin snorted softly, then leaned up to press soft kisses against his nose and then forehead. "And let you get all the cool new scars? Fat chance of that." Rowan huffed out a laugh in spite of everything. Aelin's arms naked around his back and rubbed soothing circles into his muscles. "Now come on, buzzard, help me up. We can't let the others have all the fun while we hide out in here."

Pulling away and helping her sit up as she requested, Rowan stopped Aelin from standing by placing his hands on her shoulders and staring into her eyes. They were much clearer now, but still a bit too dilated. "You sure you're ready?" He trusted her to tell him the truth.

Smirking roguishly, Aelin nodded once, "Let's go kick some Wyvern ass."

 **A/N: Another tumblr prompt. Leave a review and let me know what you thought!**


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